Mine!
If only he was a dragon, he could fly up there and burn the damned thing to ashes.
“Silk, Lace, and Whispers. Now open in South Blackstone,” he managed to read aloud, once the haze of red cleared from his vision and he could see the copy scrawled at the bottom of the ad.
Darcey was some kind of model? Of course she was, he thought with a snort. She was gorgeous. A little on the short side, sure, but those curves were definitely made for silk and lace. And his hands roaming over her skin and ripping that delicate—
“Christ!” He spun on his heel and stomped back to his pickup, slamming the door so hard when he got in, the cab rattled. Rubbing his hands down his face, he started the truck, giving that damned billboard a quick glance, which was a big mistake because it didn’t help his erection. He couldn’t remember ever being so aroused and angry at the same time.
After checking the highway was clear, he got back on, speeding away from the billboard. Still, it was an image he couldn’t erase from his mind, probably never would. Darcey on top of white silk sheets. Red lace covering her sweet body. Those plump lips, wondering how they would taste. How her body would feel under his.
Goddammit.
It was a fucking miracle he made it to HQ in one piece. His entire body was vibrating in anger—or need—he wasn’t sure at this point because both emotions ebbed and flowed from him until he was a shaking mass of confusion.
He stalked into HQ, not bothering to return the greeting of his colleagues who were leaving for the day, or saying sorry to someone he bumped into.
“Excuse me,” came the terse voice which was accompanied by a surly growl.
Whipping his head back, Anders could hardly suppress his tiger’s annoyance at the sight of the tall man in gold-rimmed glasses. This asshole. Dr. What’s-his-face. Spenser, he recalled. Damon had introduced him a few weeks back, and his superior attitude and stupid accent had rubbed Anders the wrong way. Spenser was supposed to be a ranger, but when he wasn’t on patrol, preferred to hole himself up in his office, doing research or whatever bullshit he came here for.
“Sorry,” Anders said in his most insincere tone, then dashed away. Entering the changing room, he headed straight to his locker to get into his uniform. As he slipped his shirt off, a loud, angry clang of a locker door slamming from behind caught his attention.
It was Daniel Rogers, fucking hero of Blackstone. However instead of his usual friendly smile, Rogers sent him a seething look, then headed toward the door, but not before he could feel the other man’s bear roar at him in rage.
What the hell was with people and their animals today?
Wait. Rogers would know where Darcey was. “Hey, Rogers! Hold on!” Shutting his locker, he was about to chase after the other man when a snippet of conversation caught his sensitive hearing.
“… holy fuck, man, I’d like to get her between my sheets.”
“Shit, I nearly swerved off the highway when I saw that billboard,” someone said with a chuckle. “Woulda been worth it, though.”
“Really? Then take a look at this.”
There were several gasps. “Where’d you get that?”
“I want one.”
“Fuck, I want two!”
Anders’s shoulders tensed as he stalked around to the other row of lockers. Sure enough, a group of four guys from the day shift were gathered together.
“What the hell is going on here?” He pushed two of them aside. “What do you—” Fury rose in him, and the edges of his vision turned dark red. Sure enough, there was a postcard-sized version of Darcey’s billboard on the inside of one of the lockers.
“Bro!” The owner of said locker, Davis—who had only passed the training course last year—called. “Have you seen this hottie?”
“Where did you get this?” he asked, his tone tense.
Davis chuckled. “I was out with my nephews and sister last Saturday in South Blackstone, and then I come across this lingerie shop, right? I stopped cuz that picture was displayed in the window, and when I peek inside—holy shit, she was in there, working the register! I go in—I don’t care that it’s all girly lacy underwear and shit—and I go up to her and chat her up a bit.” A dark brow went up. “Lemme tell you, she’s even hotter up close. Anyway, I chat her up, and I find out her name is Darcey, and she’s not just the model, but the manager of the shop too. They had a whole rack of those post cards”—he nodded at the one hanging on his locker—“so I got one and even asked her to autograph it.”
“She works here? In Blackstone?” one of the other guys—Gilmore—asked.
“Yeah.” Davis smirked. “Maybe I’ll head over there on my day off and—”
“You fucking better not!” Anders roared as he grabbed the postcard off the wall and tore it in half.
“What the fuck, bro?” Davis cried. “The hell are you—ack!”
Before he could stop himself, Anders had his hands around Davis’s neck. “You stay the fuck away from her, if you know what’s good for you!” He bared his teeth at the other men and growled.
“What the hell, man?” Gilmore cried. “What’s the matter with you? You’re choking him.”
Turning back to Davis, he saw the other man’s face turning purple. Shock made him relax his fingers. “Fuck,” he spat. “Jesus, I—” Quickly, he did an about face and stomped to his locker, grabbing his uniform shirt and stormed out the door.
What the fuck just happened? Scrubbing a hand down his face, he let out a growl. She was still here, in Blackstone. Worked here, probably lived here too. Glancing down at the torn postcard in his hand, he saw the address of the lingerie shop.
“Don’t even think about it,” he told himself. His inner tiger, however, snarled at him and raked its claws down his insides. “Stop, I’m not going anywhere near her!” Stuffing the postcard pieces in his pocket, he put his shirt on and stalked off to begin his shift. Somehow, someway, he’d get Darcey Wednesday out of his system for good.
Chapter Three
“You have everything?” Sarah asked. “Lipstick? Wallet? Car keys? House keys?”
Darcey rolled her eyes. “Yes, Mom.”
“Protection?” Sarah said with a brow raised.
“Ew, Sarah, it’s only the second date,” she admonished. And no, she didn’t bring protection because she took her birth control religiously and even made an appointment with a new doctor in town to have her prescription switched here. Besides, she was a shifter, which meant she couldn’t get any STDs. “I’m waiting for at least the third date for that.”
“Ah, going the traditional route, are we?” Sarah teased. “Then how come he’s not picking you up?”
“Because we haven’t talked about my living situation yet,” Darcey began. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love living here—rent free, I may add—with you and Daniel and Adam, but I don’t want to scare the guy away until I can figure out how he feels about that.”
It wasn’t that she was ashamed of her living situation, but it was definitely unique. Though she’d often thought about moving out, she didn’t want to leave Adam or have Sarah and Daniel care for him all the time. Her brother was independent enough, but still needed help with transportation, plus, he’d always had her around, and she didn’t want to change things too much for him. She figured that when Adam went off to college in two years, she could re-examine that situation, but for now, she was staying put.
“All right.” Sarah hugged her. “You look gorgeous. Good luck. And have fun.”
“I will. See you later.” She made her way out the door, waving goodbye to Sarah as she got into her car. Excitement thrummed through her, but she did her best to tamp it down. It’s just a second date, she told herself as she pulled out of the driveway and made her way toward Main Street.
Of course, she reasoned that anyone would be excited, given that her last two dates had been disasters. The first guy, someone J.D. had set her up with, was polite and nice, but so boring that she nearly fell asleep h
alfway through their date.
The second guy was the photographer who did the campaign for the shop, Jarrod McKlinskey. She liked Jarrod enough during the shoot, but he turned out to be a real creep. First, he ordered for her during their date without asking. Next, their conversations started normal, but then he started spouting sexist nonsense about how woman should stay at home, barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen before the salads even arrived. Darcey had been too shocked to leave right then and there, but when the waiter came to ask if they wanted dessert, she immediately made an excuse and left.
As if that wasn’t bad enough, he kept texting her, and so she politely told him that she didn’t feel a connection and they should just part ways. He replied by calling her a whore and bitch, and that when—not if—they went on their second date, he’d prove to her that they were meant to be together. She promptly blocked him after that, then started rethinking her plan.
Was there something about her deciding to stop chasing after unavailable men that the universe now only sent her jackasses and creeps? Or had she just always attracted the terrible men and she hadn’t noticed?
Needless to say, she had been ready to give up—until she met Cam. Dr. Cameron Spenser. She had stopped by the coffee shop on Friday morning before work to grab her usual cup when she realized that her wallet was in the car. As she was explaining to the annoyed cashier that she’d come back, the person in line behind her offered to pay. Startled, she looked back at the gorgeous, tall man in the gold-rimmed glasses and an English accent that turned her brain to mush. Though she tried to say no, he insisted, and they ended up sitting together for a few minutes, chatting, and then exchanged numbers. It wasn’t even lunchtime by the time he called, and they made a date for Saturday night. He took her to a French restaurant in South Blackstone, and Darcey had enjoyed herself so much that she agreed to a second date.
Calm yourself, she said. Her instinct would be to go all in, head over heels for this guy. And really, it was tempting. Cam was smart, polite, and had just enough aloofness that of course her first impulse was to make him want her and pay attention to her.
But that was the Old Darcey.
The New Darcey was going to play it cool. No mooning over him, imagining their future together or texting or calling him except to confirm the time and place of their second date. No, she had her feet firmly on the ground and her heart caged in her chest.
Her swan sighed sadly and hung its head down.
“None of that either,” she admonished, maneuvering the car into the parking lot. Oh, she knew what the swan wanted. Or rather, who. But her chest twinged with pain each time she even thought about him. And so, she devoted much of her time to not thinking about him.
She slipped out of her car, shut the door, and smoothed her red dress down. It was tight enough to show off her curves, yet wasn’t overly sexy. After checking her lipstick in the side-view mirror, she spun around and headed toward the entrance to Giorgio’s, the local Italian eatery.
A strange feeling made her freeze. It was like every hair on her body stood up, and for the first time in three weeks, her swan jerked its head and swung around. Her shifter instinct was going haywire, and it was telling her something was wrong. But there was no one around, so her human brain told her she was being silly. But then again, it wasn’t the first time she’d been approached by strangers lurking about.
It’s that damned billboard. “Ugh.” She slapped a palm on her forehead. Why did I let J.D. convince me to pose for those pictures? Perhaps it was the ten bottles of wine they finished off that made her say yes.
It sounded like a good idea at the time—get all glammed up, wear some of the lingerie Sarah designed, and have pictures taken for the store. They saved money by not hiring a professional model. Of course, she had no idea they were actually going to have a fifty-foot tall billboard of her on the most high-traffic section of the highway.
It had only been out for over a week, but since then, she’s attracted a lot of attention, not just on social media, but guys coming up to her in the store or while she was out and about at the supermarket or at the cafe. If they hadn’t paid upfront for the three months of the billboard-space, she would have insisted they take it down.
Of course, a small part of her couldn’t even believe that was her on the billboard. Jarrod had been a creep, but he was a damned talented photographer. The photo had turned out classy and sensual, and not dirty or cheap. The campaign had also caused a surge in traffic and sales which she was happy for.
Yes, that had to be it. She was being paranoid. Brushing off the feeling, she dashed into the restaurant. To her relief, Cam was already by the host’s station, looking handsome in his suit, his hair tied back in a ponytail, gold-rimmed glasses perched on his aquiline nose. He smiled when he saw her, though his light, blue-violet eyes remained flat.
He was a shifter, of course, but what, she wasn’t sure. Of course, she’d told him what she was back on their first date, even though he didn’t offer to tell her his own animal, and she hadn’t asked because it seemed impolite. But she could tell he was something big and … cold? There was something about him that felt unreachable, like a part of him that was encased in ice.
“Good evening, Darcey. You look gorgeous,” he said, his accent making her all giddy.
“Thank you, Cam. So do you. I mean, you look great,” she said nervously, wondering if Cam had seen the billboard, and if so, how did he react? Would he get all jealous and not want to go out with her anymore? Or would he think she was some easy tramp and try to coax her into bed tonight?
“These are for you.” He swung his arm around and lifted an arrangement of flowers he’d been hiding behind him.
“Oh, Cam.” Her eyes went wide as she accepted the half dozen red roses wrapped up in tissue. “These are beautiful.” Closing her eyes, she took a whiff. “And they smell good too.” She flashed him a dazzling smile, waiting for a reaction from her body. Like her stomach flipping or her heart thudding faster.
But there was nothing. Nothing except the sad huff from her swan. It didn’t even ask the usual question it did whenever she met a guy. She almost missed the way it would cry out—mine?
Old Darcey, she reminded herself. “Thank you for bringing these.”
Cam turned to the host. “Do you have our table ready?”
“Of course, sir,” the young man said. “Follow me.”
They sat down at their table, chatted as they looked over the menu and ordered, and generally enjoyed themselves over the delicious Italian food. They lingered over coffee and dessert, and though Darcey found herself having a good time, there was something that just didn’t feel right.
Cam was handsome, attentive, and smart. He was some kind of researcher and was technically a doctor. “Not that kind of doctor,” he had said last week on their first date, but rather, he studied animals and plants, which was why he moved to Blackstone from England. All he ever talked about was work or books and articles he read. Not that she was bored, but he never talked about himself or his family at all. Sure, she talked about her own work and her life back in Las Vegas and what it was like moving here, but also, she dropped hints about her own family life, mentioning Adam and Sarah and Daniel, but he didn’t seem to pick up on it, keeping mum about his own personal life.
By the time the waiter was clearing their cups and dessert plates, Darcey felt drained. Sadly, though she had been excited at the beginning of the night, it was hard to muster up any more attraction or interest in him. In a way, that was a good thing, because that meant she was putting Old Darcey aside, not immediately going all in with a guy. But still, she couldn’t help feeling there was more than that.
“Can I give you some cash for that?” she said when Cam reached for the folder on the table.
Cam slipped a black card into the folder, then handed it to a passing waiter. “I invited you, so I should pay,” he said. “I insist.”
“Thank you.” She only hoped Cam wouldn’t ask her out again
, or worse—ask her to come back to his place or head to hers. She cleared her throat and was about to say something when he spoke first.
“I had a lovely time tonight, Darcey,” he began. “Unfortunately, I have an early day tomorrow.”
Relief poured through her. “You do?”
He nodded. “There’s a species of grouse I’ve been meaning to catalogue, and according to my research I may be able to observe it on the northeast side of the mountain. I need to get up early and hike up there before anyone else arrives.”
“Oh, how uh, exciting.”
“Excuse me, sir,” their waiter interrupted. “We’re having some trouble with your card. Would you mind coming up to the machine, or do you have another form of payment?”
Cam frowned. “Of course, but why don’t we try that card again? Otherwise, I do have some cash. Will you excuse me for a moment, Darcey?”
“Actually, if you don’t mind, I’d like to head out.” She let out a yawn. “I have an early day tomorrow, too, since it’s inventory day.”
“I can walk you out, if you can give me a minute.”
“No, it’s fine, sort out your card.” She got to her feet and slung her purse over her shoulder.
“I’ll call you.”
“Sure,” she replied automatically. Maybe she could let him down easier over a phone call. This was only a second date after all. “Goodnight, Cam. Thanks for the meal.”
Heading toward the exit, she stepped out into the cool evening. It was so different here in the mountains, so unlike the dry desert air of the Nevada. Still, the stiff breeze shouldn’t have been enough to send an icy, prickly sensation down her spine, especially not with her shifter ability to adjust to extreme temperature. Her inner animal went on alert again, much like it did earlier, as if someone was watching her. I should have had Cam walk me back.
Blackstone Ranger Rogue: Blackstone Rangers Book 4 Page 4
